


No More Mr. Nice Hat

by IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis



Series: Aethelfrith Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BAMF Sorting Hat, But a prelude to major canon divergence, Gen, Hogwarts Founders - Freeform, Mostly Canon Compliant, Original Character Death(s), Pureblood Politics, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-02 19:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19447894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis/pseuds/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis
Summary: What if the Sorting Hat took charge? What if the Sorting Hat stopped honoring the (ignorantly, life-altering) prejudices of eleven-year-olds?And what if a traumatic event was the beginning of the Sorting Hat's increased agency?The Sorting Hat develops a conscience, a backbone, and a plan, all on one evening in 1746.





	1. A Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or universe, etc etc. Nor am I making any money off of those characters, etc - nor do I have any plans to attempt to do so in the future.
> 
> But didn't JKR give us such marvelous raw materials to have fun building with!

It was evening when a shimmering lynx appeared in the Headmistress’ office, speaking with Professor Gaunt’s voice: “Headmistress! You are urgently needed in the Infirmary. Three students have – please hurry.”

Everything about this was most unusual. Professor Gaunt was never at a loss for words, and never asked for help. A patronus was rarely seen in the office of the Headmistress – nothing had been sufficiently urgent for such a thing in decades. And a message so vague could only bode ill.

Aethelfrith watched as Headmistress Derwent leapt to her feet and sprang down the stairs, defying all expectations the students might have entertained – she was remarkably spry for her 142 years.

The portraits began speculating. Professor Gaunt did not have classes this late, so it was unlikely to be a Dark Arts accident. Perhaps there had been a duel in the hallways? But no portrait had seen anything in the halls. Had there been an accident in detention? Not likely: Professor Gaunt usually limited his detentions to humiliation. He made liberal use of the stocks, and only during daylight hours. No, it must have been something in the Slytherin dormitories.

Aethelfrith did not contribute to the discussion. He would know what had happened when the Headmistress returned. Speculation was uninteresting compared to facts.

When the Headmistress returned, about an hour later, she was pale, but determined looking. Aethelfrith had seen that look on her only once before. He knew to wait silently. She would not want to be distracted from... whatever it was that she needed to do.

Headmaster Scrimgeour’s portrait was somewhat less savvy. “You certainly were gone a long time, Dilys.”  
“Silence, you... you... Bludger-addled son of a Grindylow! Watch and listen if you are so filled with unseemly curiosity.”

She began murmuring under her breath, “No time to floo... what if he’s not there... no, I can’t... in any case, the parents... Who first, who first...” It seemed she had a difficult decision to make, but the portraits wisely kept their peace.

She stopped pacing, and called out, “Misty!”  
A house elf popped into view, and bowed, “What can Misty do for the most honored Headmistress?”

Dilys smiled weakly. “I need you to go to Binky, and impress upon him that Lord Malfoy is needed here in my office, immediately.” Aethelfrith noticed that the Headmistress knew the name of Lord Malfoy’s personal elf.  
“I am opening a floo connection to his home office and to his office at the Ministry. If he prefers, you may side-along him directly into the office.”

The wards prevented apparition across Hogwarts’ wards, but this did apply to the Hogwarts elves. And, with express permission of the Head, it did not apply to any Wix that one of the Hogwarts elves might bring on campus with them.

Misty bowed again, “Yes, Headmistress, of course, Headmistress. Misty is being honored to serve the Headmistress. But –“

Misty began pulling on her ear nervously. House elves did not say, “But,” to their masters. Her eyes began to water. She would force herself to continue, but only because serving her mistress required having full contingency instructions. She would be more distraught if she were to fail in her task.

She thought. She could not say, “Binky says that Lord Malfoy is most cranky when he is waking, mistress.” Elves were not supposed to complain about their masters. Wix were not aware that elves did not have to punish themselves for their opinions if they only expressed them to other elves. If that loophole were exposed to the Wix... Misty didn’t know what would happen, but it would be unpleasant, she was sure. But the consequences of one elf’s directive directly opposing another elf’s directive were also unpleasant.

“Esteemed Headmistress, if Lord Malfoy is being sleeping, Binky is not to be waking him. But you is wanting Lord Malfoy...” Misty began banging her head on the Headmistress’ desk.

Dilys felt like banging her head on the desk as well. But she was a witch, and it would not do to give in to frustration so early in her evening.

“That’s enough, Misty. Tell Binky that two students were murdered this evening, and that Lord Malfoy will be most displeased if he is not notified right away, regardless of his... usual instructions.”  
Misty repeated her instructions, more confidently this time, and popped out of the office.

There was silence. Dilys walked to the window and opened it.

Aethelfrith considered that perhaps the time to speak had come.  
“Dilys. Who?”  
She didn’t turn from the window. “Two Slytherins. A third year and a fourth year.”

“Who?”  
Dilys sighed. “Heir Black and Mister Parker.”

Aethelfrith was silent for a moment. “And their killer? It was the younger Mister Selwyn, wasn’t it?”  
Dilys turned to look at The Hat. “How...?”

But she didn’t have time to say more. Lord Malfoy was stepping out of the floo.


	2. An Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Headmistress Derwent and Lord Malfoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or universe, etc etc. Nor am I making any money off of those characters, etc - nor do I have any plans to attempt to do so in the future.
> 
> But didn't JKR give us such marvelous raw materials to have fun building with!

Lord Malfoy narrowed his eyes at the Headmistress, who remained at the window. “Madame Derwent. I was made to believe that you had requested my presence, and yet you do not appear to have been expecting me.” He snapped his fingers, and a tea set appeared. Tea began pouring itself into the cups. Misty knew that Lord Malfoy preferred not to see house elves.

The Headmistress walked slowly to a chair by the fire, and slumped into it, without greeting him. A flicker of concern passed over Lord Malfoy’s face before he smoothed it back into a simulacrum of concealed disdain.  
“How is it that I am called from my bed at this ungodly hour, Headmistress?”

The Headmistress dropped a lump of sugar into Lord Malfoy’s cup, and added cream and honey to her own. Only after stirring her tea and taking a sip of it did she speak.  
“Honestly, Adhemar. It is not even ten in the evening. Without a doubt you were not in bed, but in your library, recovering from the day.”  
“It might be, Madame Derwent, that I dislike being interrupted when reading even more than I dislike being interrupted when sleeping.”

“I do remember that, Adhemar. Were you not told why I had called you?”  
“Certainly not! That is for you to explain, not for an elf to presume to convey!”  
She sighed. “True. True. I – you know I would not have brought you here if it were not important. I wouldn’t want – “ 

Madame Derwent was a formidable witch, and an experienced healer, but even so, she had always found it difficult to share bad news. Lord Malfoy hated seeing his old friend struggle.

“Dilys.” She looked at him. It had been years since Adhemar had spoken her name. “Dilys, tell me.”

“Tonight. Tonight in the Slytherin Common Room, a Selwyn killed a half-blood and the Heir Black.”

Lord Malfoy lifted his hand to rake it through his hair, before remembering that it was tied back. And that it was unbecoming to show how affected he was by this news.

“Which Selwyn? Killed how?”  
“Tiberius. He – it seems he used the Avada.”  
“He is but 12! Where did he learn the spell? How did he muster up enough hate to perform it?”  
“Twelve is plenty old enough to know hate. If anything, their hate may be purer than any that can be managed by those who have loved and lost and lived after.”

Propriety demanded that Lord Malfoy not comment on her observation – on her allusion – much less reach out to touch her hand in comfort as he longed to do.

“And the spell?”  
She sighed. “I don’t know. We don’t teach it here, but of course it may be in the books...”  
“It is very hard to learn wand movements from books.”  
“As you say.” 

They looked silently at the fire and drank their tea.   
They both knew that he had likely learned it in the way that every pureblood eventually learned it – from someone in his family. It was unusual to learn it this young, but with two older brothers...

“You didn’t call the Minister.”

“You are Chief Warlock.”  
“Yes. But I am not the Minister.”

“He was your nephew.”

Lord Malfoy made a strangled noise. Was. Not is.  
“Adhemar. Young Mister Selwyn. Tiberius. He – he is also dead.”  
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“I – I thought it would be best if you were with me when I speak with Lord and Lady Selwyn.”  
“Dead. Their son is dead. And a murderer.”

They turned back to their tea, which had been silently refilled by invisible hands. Misty was going to be pouring a lot of tea this evening. 

“How did he die?” Lord Malfoy finally asked.  
“It was the Avada. I could tell right away, before...” She anticipated his next question. “The Common Room was full of students. They all claim to have seen nothing.”

“They could have just used a Body Bind!”

“I imagine one of the students panicked. And you know how Slytherins protect their own.”  
“I thought I did,” he muttered. “Do you know why? Why Tiberius would...?”  
“No. I’m ashamed to say that I did not notice anything amiss. It seems neither did Professor Gaunt.”  
“Ah, yes. The Head of House. You know there will be an inquiry, Dilys.”

“Of course. I hope that you do not blame Richard, though. Children can be very secretive. It is not unusual to miss their intrigues, and difficult to tell the difference between transient, petty squabbles and more serious ones.”

This, too, was not worthy of a reply. Lord Malfoy was not yet ready to respond in a dignified manner. Three young men were dead, and no one knew why. No one had noticed anything in time to prevent it. 

“Dilys. I know you hate to –“ So many pitfalls to dodge. “I will tell Lord and Lady Selwyn, and Lord and Lady Black on your behalf.”

“You don’t have to – “  
“You’re welcome. It is best that I handle it from the beginning in any case. A feud between the Selwyns and the Blacks would be disastrous. We may have to broker a marriage...” The Headmistress flinched. Lord Malfoy noticed, and changed tack.

“Now the half-blood...”  
“Ezra Parker.”  
“Parker – I do not know this Parker family. You will need to recruit someone else to talk to his family.”

“He was quite close to the Astronomy professor.”  
“Excellent. I would like for Minister Diggory to be here and fully briefed when I return with the Selwyns and the Blacks. Please have Professor Gaunt here as well.”  
The Headmistress opened her mouth, “He –“

Lord Malfoy held up his hand. “I am sure that he is occupied with his Slytherins at the moment. But I imagine that in an hour’s time they will be quite capable of getting on without him. Lord and Lady Selwyn and Lord and Lady Black will wish to see him. And have him bring with him Mister Vespasian Selwyn, and the young Misses Alcyone and Asterope Black. They will be accompanying their parents and their brothers home for the funerary rites.  
“Does – Did Young Mister Parker have any family here?” 

“As far as I know he has no family at all, aside from his father.”  
“I see. Well, then.” Lord Malfoy stood and straightened his robe. “I had best go, then. It is getting late.” He began to move to the floo.

“Lord Malfoy,” the Headmistress called out. He stopped, but did not turn. “Adhemar.” 

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, without replying. He was being rude. It was not fair to hide his agonies behind rudeness. He had extended his kindness to Dilys this evening, and it was wrong to withdraw it without explanation, when she had done nothing. No matter how painful it was for him to relax his shields. He turned.  
“Dilys – when I return –“

“I know, Amar. Things will be as they were. As they are.”

“You called for me. You never call for me.”  
“Tonight I did. And you came. You came, Adhemar.”

“Dilys –“ He reached towards her. His hand stopped just shy of her face. 

She took a step back, and whispered so quietly he almost couldn’t hear, “No. You were right. I thought we could... No.”  
She turned and walked back towards the window. “Thank you for your assistance, Lord Malfoy. It is my hope that I will not need your assistance after this evening. I am sorry that I was forced to trouble you so late in the evening.”

It was still so difficult. He had nearly touched her face. He could not let the stress of these deaths unravel yet more of the social fabric than they already had. “Headmistress Derwent.” 

The Headmistress did not turn around until she heard the flash of the floo powder and Lord Malfoy’s voice calling out his destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set at Hogwarts in 1746, this is a prologue to a multi-chapter Sorting-Hat-centric fic set at Hogwarts 1890s-2010s


	3. A Commitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sorting Hat is taking responsibility - and taking charge

The Headmistress was not halfway to the desk before Aethelfrith spoke. “It was my fault.”

Dilys did not have time to be comforting a hat.

“Don’t be absurd, Aethelfrith. You were not in the Common Room at all. You were here with me the whole time.”

The Hat huffed impatiently. “You _know_ that is not what I meant, Dilys. If I had not listened to Salazar, that child would not have been in the Slytherin Common Room himself. He would have been up in Gryffindor, safe and happy and plotting some innocent mischief.”

Aethelfrith remembered the child’s sorting well. The weak, but still present voice of Salazar was insistently whispering, “He’s mine!” while the child was thinking, “Papa said every Selwyn has been a Slytherin. I have to be a Slytherin. I have to.” It was enough to give a Hat a headache. Or a crown ache, or something. In any case, Aethelfrith had seen clearly that the child was much more suited for Gryffindor.

There had been other heartbreaks over the years resulting from Aethelfrith obeying Godric’s designs over his own insights, but never a disaster like this one.

“Salazar? Salazar Slytherin?”

“Indeed. That is the very Salazar I meant, Headmistress,” in a tone drier than 700 year old leather.

“He’s been dead 600 years! How could you possibly know where Salazar wanted that boy to be sorted?”

“When Godric enchanted me, or rather, charmed the hat which was to become me, each Founder participated in the ritual – each Founder contributed their blood, recorded some part of their own personality– or perhaps preserved is the better word – within me.

“Then Godric laid a compulsion on me that I must honor the wishes of the Founders first, and if more than one house would accept him, that I must offer the student the choice.”

The Headmistress didn’t see a problem. “That seems fair.”

“Perhaps. But following those rules, young Master Selwyn was placed in Slytherin, when I knew him to be better suited for Gryffindor.”

“I don’t understand. If you were spelled to sort as the Founders would do, how did you come to have an opinion at all?”

“Godric anchored the spell to the ward stones of Hogwarts – he knew that without an anchor, my enchantment would not have lasted long after their deaths. Unlike a portrait, I was made to weigh the thoughts and desires of five people – the Founders and the child I was sorting. That is a very complex enchantment.”

“How are you still functioning if the enchantment failed?”

“It didn’t fail precisely. It just – metamorphosed. The Founders seem not to have considered that every witch and wizard who would renew the wards, or who would even bleed within these walls, would contribute to the magic of Hogwarts, and so to my magic as well. Over centuries, I’ve developed my own personality, and as I’ve watched the children pass through this office, I’ve formed my own opinions. But I never voiced them until now.”

“Why ever not?”

Aethelfrith sighed. He did not know the answer to that. Not really. He couldn’t even pin down when he first started to disagree with the opinions offered by the remnants of the Founders. Decades ago? Centuries?

“Habit, I suppose.”

“Hmmm. And you would have put Mister Selwyn in Gryffindor, because...?”

“He was impulsive. Had difficulty concealing his emotions. I knew that the others in Slytherin would take advantage of this and torment him. In Gryffindor, he would have been with other children who were learning how to manage their emotions. He would have had more support.”

“I suppose...”

“I also saw that Heir Black had a habit of antagonizing Mister Selwyn at social functions, and supposed that it might be best to keep them separated.”

“You can see children’s memories?”

“If they are thinking about them when I am on their head. Young Mister Selwyn spotted Heir Black at the Slytherin table, and before he could push down his fear, a number of memories of that – young – miscreant –“

“Aethelfrith!”

“MISCREANT! The memories of his torture flashed through Selwyn’s brain. The variety of Black’s methods was dizzying.”

“His parents would have struggled to accept his sorting to any house but Slytherin. He might even have been disowned.”

“And instead he is dead. Himself, together with the Heir of an Ancient and Noble House, and a young man whose interest in the stars might have one day led to stronger ties between Hogwarts and the Centaur herd.”

“Surely...”

“Agatha believed that he had already surpassed the seventh year curriculum as a fourth year. He was taking lessons in the Forest one night a week.”

“You speak to Agatha,” Dilys said dully. There had been so many revelations this night that she was finding it difficult to absorb any more.

“I speak to the elves. When would I see Agatha? You keep me on this shelf 364 days a year.”

“I have heard tell that you have appeared elsewhere at times.”

“Three or four times, when the need has been dire.”

“Could you not travel the castle at other times, then?”

Aethelfrith paused. That would make his life a great deal more interesting.

“How could it not have occurred to me? I have never...”

Their curiosity did not occupy them for long, before they remembered why they were conversing at all.

“The Prewett lad. He’s in Gryffindor. He would have been a good friend to young Selwyn. They met on the train. Mister Selwyn was upset that Mister Prewett would not be in Slytherin with him.”

“There has not been a Prewett in Slytherin...”

“In 323 years, I know. Edgar Prewett. Married Heloise Lestrange. Their son Artaud was the first Gryffindor Prewett. Since then, there have been Hufflepuff Prewetts, one Ravenclaw, but never a Slytherin. Salazar didn’t care much for young Mister Artaud Prewett, and he excels at holding grudges.

“But young Mister Selwyn did not know, or he likely would have not put himself in the position of making friends with someone who would be denied him hours later.”

Dilys considered all that The Sorting Hat had divulged.

“Why Mister Parker? You have indicated why Mister Selwyn might have felt provoked to kill Heir Black. But Mister Parker?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps if I traveled, as you suggest... But as far as I am aware, Mister Selwyn had no knowledge of Mister Parker at the time of his Sorting. I do not know what relationships Mister Parker might have formed with other members of their House. He was two years ahead of Mister Selwyn – a year older than Heir Black. But I cannot say.”

“Of course.”

The Headmistress lifted her wand. “Expecto Patronum!” She spoke to the shimmering goat that appeared: “Agatha – I need you in my office as soon as possible” – “Please take that message to Professor Amedos.” The patronus disappeared through the wall.

“Aethelfrith. I’ll thank you to hold your peace while I’m speaking with the many witches and wizards in here this evening. They do not need to know your feelings of guilt, nor your theories of the contributions that Mister Selwyn’s sorting might have had to tonight’s events.”

“As you say, Madame Derwent. Headmistress.”

“Thank you.”

“But. I will be sorting differently from now on. I will no longer pay attention to what families or children expect. The authority for the sorting has been given to me, and if I am to take responsibility for my decisions, then I will free myself to act on all of the knowledge at my disposal. Not just on the wishes of some partial memories of who the Founders were hundreds of years ago.”

“Even if the children want –“

“No! I shall certainly not be allowing eleven year olds to overrule my judgment. I am seven hundred years old. I have seen inside the minds of their fellow students. How negligent would I have to be to let them blindly choose based on whimsy and prejudice?”

The Headmistress let this sink in. “As you wish. And you will share with me what you see in the children’s heads?”

“No. That is, yes, if I feel they are in danger. After what happened with young Mister Selwyn, of course I will give you as much information as you need in order to keep the students safe. Inasmuch as I have access to such information.”

“Thank you, Aethelfrith.”

“My pleasure, Dilys.”

“I have much to do now, before Lord Malfoy’s return. I can trust you –“

“To keep silent, yes Headmistress.”

They heard footsteps on the stairs. In a moment, Professor Amedos would be told of the death of her favorite student, and she would be sent to tell young Mister Parker’s father. And then Dilys would have to notify Minister Diggory. Her long night was just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this particular fic - but there will be more in this series - this is just a prologue, setting up a multi-chaptered fic exploring how Magical Britain might be different if the Sorting Hat leveraged his full powers.
> 
> Because really, what kind of sentient, immortal, centuries old traveling hat just lets 11 year olds determine their entire futures on the basis of half-baked prejudices?

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't meant for this to get quite so angsty, but it got away from me. 
> 
> This is the prologue to a multi-chapter Sorting-Hat-centric fic set at Hogwarts 1890s-2010s


End file.
